


To Convince You of Your Beauty (You Can Make Him Sing)

by GayCorn



Category: Elton John (Musician), Rocketman (2019)
Genre: 1970s, Blow Jobs, Chest Hair, Elton John/Reader - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, Reader-Insert, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21726169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayCorn/pseuds/GayCorn
Summary: You're Elton's partner in the seventies.  After a gig, you notice that he's being self-loathing about his (in your eyes, perfect) body, and you decide he needs to understand how beautiful he is.
Relationships: Elton John/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	To Convince You of Your Beauty (You Can Make Him Sing)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Reader! So... here we go. This story can be read by anyone of any gender with any body parts since I tried to keep it ambiguous for you. There's really only one mention of your body: at one point, you get a "wet spot," which could be your perfect pre-cum or your lovely self-lubrication. (I am aggressively sex-positive, don't mind me.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story, and please let me know if you notice any errors. Keep in mind, if you liked this, I take requests!
> 
> ALSO: No protection was used in this fic because it's the seventies, and Elton was a lucky dumbass. We're going to pretend that you got him and yourself tested though, just to help me sleep. Please always use protection, folks.

Elton rushes into the dressing room after the show, the grin dropping off of his face the second he's out of view of the crowd. You rush in after him immediately, just in time to make it before he locks the door. You can never tell what he'll do when he's upset, and you don't want him to be alone. He glares at you. 

"Fuck off, you shouldn't be here." He's not putting much heart into his anger; he's mostly just pouting. Still, you have to hide a flinch.

You opt to just lean against the door and raise an eyebrow in response. 

Elton flops into his velvet chair, pulls a huge fur coat off the rack and over his scantily-clad body, and pouts some more.

He'd been incredible on the stage. He was a flash of glory and sequins, showing off his back and chest as he tore rhythm from the piano and adoration from the crowd. The sound of as he walked off had been deafening. Your man. Larger than life, and too good for the world.

Now he was curled up nearly as small as he could be, and alternating between glances of anger at you, and disgust at the large mirror on the wall. Oh, honey.

You realize what he's upset about, and with a small sigh, you go over and sit on the edge of Elton's chair. Elton, predictably, begins to protest and insist that he's fine, stop that, but then you start stroking his hair, and he starts to relax, even if just slightly. "Careful, you might make the rest of it fall out," Elton says it like a joke, but there's an undertone of shame to the joke that makes you feel a little gutted. The same feeling: Oh honey.

You lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his head. "And you'd still be beautiful, darling."

"Oh, fuck off." He says it even less harshly this time, like a quiet concession. Elton knows by now that there's no point arguing with you, even if he doesn't agree. You decide to call that a win. 

"No way, sugar." You mouth light kisses into his neck, and you feel him scrunch his neck up. You get him to actually  _ giggle _ . Elton is fucking adorable in that he's surprisingly ticklish. You love it endlessly so you tickle him a little more. Gorgeous guy.

After a while, you let up on him and stand. "Come on, honey. Let's get you back to the hotel now." 

Elton whines a little, but he stands up. After a quick glance at the mirror, he visibly retracts a little and pulls the fur back over himself. "I need to get out of this first."

"Need some help?" You say with a suggestive grin.

Elton shakes his head. "No, no. I'll be out in a bit, just uh... tell the crew that I'll be out in a few."

You see him reaching for a little box in the drawer and turn away quickly. You know what's in it. You damn well won't be able to stop him, and you hate to see him do it, so you make a rapid exit.

You pass Reid in the hall and take your feelings out on him with a glare and a snooty raising of your chin. Reid's an asshole, and he already hates you, so why not. You heard that Reid had been the one who introduced Elton to coke, too, so fuck him. The greasy little shit can handle a glare or two.

You grab your things and go to the limo (' _ You get to ride in a limo!' _ that stupid little part of your brain shrieks) to wait for Elton. He's out in a few minutes, grinning and twitching a little, in a much more conservative outfit, by Elton's standards. You try not to be bothered by his obvious high, and you pull Elton into the car and into your lips. 

No one can see you through the tinted windows, so you kiss him. His lips are warm and soft as ever. He's bolder now than when sober and leaves no room for hesitation as he pushes in his tongue. You moan a little, despite yourself. God, he tastes good. Objectively, maybe it's not great. Elton's mouth is a little dry from the concert, and his lips are a little chapped, but you don't care. He's pushing you down onto the plush leather seat now, pinning you down and biting a little on your neck.

You're pretty sure this will be a shorter high, which is good. You've promised never to have sex with Elton while he's high. This would be a pretty big issue, but the thing is, you're fine if he chooses to fuck  _ other _ people while he's high (or any time. Preferably not while he's high, actually.) You've never understood society's insistence on monogamy as the only option. You love him, so you don't restrain him, and you don't do anything past making out when he's not sober. Luckily, he should be back down to Earth a little by the time you both get settled back in at the hotel.

The weight of him brings you back to the present. God, your neck is sensitive, and you arch up a little, and he's heavy, holding you down. He moves back up and sucks on your lip. You kiss him back, hard.

You're glad there's a divider so that the driver can't see you right now, although it might not have stopped Elton right now if there hadn't been. What does stop Elton is the sound of the car door being flung open. You both look up to see the face of Bernie, simultaneously cringing away and looking utterly unsurprised. He takes another look at the sight for another quick second. You imagine how it must look: A rumpled Elton, sitting over you in the limo, his legs straddling you. The marks on your neck and your red lips. The way his pants have gotten a bit tighter.

Bernie, in his infinite grace, says, "I think I'll take the other car," and shuts the door again. You and Elton bust up laughing. You're still laughing when the limo starts moving (finally). Elton climbs off of you, and you both sit up, leaning on each other. Elton has his hand on your thigh all the way back to the hotel, and he only puts his mouth on your ear  _ sometimes _ . You smile through the short ride and try to make yourself a little more presentable before going into the hotel.

The suite in the Holiday Inn is incredible. You're still not used to it all. The tub is huge, and you have some ideas of what you could do to your guy in that tub. Elton, however, makes up some shitty excuse for why he wants to take his bath alone, and you give a huff before collapsing onto the bed.

Another day on the road and in The Starship tomorrow. Elton's plane is nice, obviously, but it can't beat a bed that's on the sweet, sweet ground. Well, actually this bed is on the top floor of a fancy hotel, but that's beside the point.

Elton's suitcases arrive at the door, and you collect them, with a wink and a tip for the cute guy that ferried them up. His name tag says "Eduardo". Eduardo blushes and scurries off. Hopefully he's got a good story to tell now.

In a few minutes, Elton pokes his head out of the bathroom door and requests a pair of clothes. His high seems to have faded, and he's seeming a little smaller than he was a few minutes ago.

This isn't a new thing. Unless he's high, he always comes out of the bathroom looking a more uncomfortable than when he went in. Once, when he'd thought no one was around, you'd heard him running a bath with the lights off. You've only ever known one other person who's done that: An old boyfriend named Frank. Frank's name used to be Francine, and he always wanted it to be dark when he showered, so his body didn't remind him. You don't think it's the same thing with Elton, though. Elton is about as happy as someone can be with their dick, and definitely doesn't avoid it.

You hear the tub start to drain and get up to make sure the curtains are closed. You've got a nice view of Dallas (well, not a nice view: It is Texas), but you don't want Dallas to get that good of a view of Elton. In a few minutes, Elton pokes his head out the door. You can see a little bit of his chest, soft and fluffy from the bath and warm air. You want your mouth on it.

You lift your eyes back to his face when Elton starts talking again. "Did someone bring my clothes up the lift yet?" His face is a little pink at having to ask.

You nod and point gesture to the suitcases. "Which one?"

"The green one."

Elton smiles gratefully as he takes it, then all at once realizes that he'll have to open the door wider if he wants to get the luggage through the door, and he glares at the inanimate object in his hand like its size is a personal betrayal. You hide your smile by turning around, and say you have to attend to something in the other room. (You're in a  _ suite. _ With  _ rooms _ !)

While you're there, you order some Indian food as room service, since Elton loves it, and try to figure out what to do about him. You come into the bedroom to see Elton halfway under the covers, looking at the charts. He's in a robe and T-Shirt, which is a bit of a shame; to cover up that chest could be a crime.

You give him a quick kiss. "Hey, honey, I ordered us some Indian food. I want to stay in tonight, okay?"

Elton smiles. "Yeah, thanks, darling," he says, and you go to take your own bath while you wait for the food to come. It's heaven after a stressful day. Nearly every day is a stressful day, so you always want that hot water to relax your muscles. It gives you an idea.

You walk out in just your towel, teasing Elton just a little. He grins at first, which just eggs you on. You make a little show out of bending over to open your suitcase, facing away from him. It's just then that you hear a knock on the door, and scramble to get your clothes on to answer the door. Elton's chuckling at you in the background as you hop around with your head in a sleeve, panicked in your rush to answer. You tend to be the one to open the door since neither of you wants to deal with what it's like when Elton is recognized. You pay the delivery woman, with a nice tip for the fast service, and return, abashed, to the bed. 

You and Elton eat on the fancy sheets just for the fun of it, even though there are a few other rooms you could be in, like the one with sofas and a coffee table. It's better like this. You talk gossip about his various competitors' poor life choices, but you're not really paying so much attention to the details. You're looking at how Elton treats the food. He obviously likes it, luckily, but he's almost guilty looking, too, or something like that. You distract him by bringing up that one of Rod Stewart's recent gigs had had a speaker malfunction, and that brightens him up a little.

When you're done eating, you lie in bed and hold each other for a while, just breathing in each other. You're facing each other, with your face buried into his shirt. God, he smells so good. You press your face up as much as you can against him, and the little tuft of hair sticking out of his T-Shirt is soft and gorgeous. You take in a deep breath of him and gather up a little courage. "Could I, um..." Deeper breath. "...Try to give you a massage?" You've never given him one before, but you have done it to other people. Elton gets so tense sometimes. He needs someone to take care of him.

"Hmm… I suppose I could let you twist my arm." He shoots you a little grin.

You smile, a little weakly, and roll out of the bed to head over to the mahogany-stained luggage table, and reach into your bag. You'd picked up some massage oil on a whim while in Los Angeles. You're 80% sure that the fumes won't get you or him high. Well, maybe 75%. It'll be alright. The oil is in a little drawstring bag, along with some lubricant, and two things that you've so far not had the courage to mention to Elton: A pair of handcuffs and a silk blindfold. The lube was fairly expensive and a little harder to find, but you never really liked the feeling of the standard Crisco, and it's not like price tags are much of a barrier anymore. You only grab the oil, for now, but you leave the pouch on top of the rest of the things in your bag. If all goes according to the vague plan, you'll be coming back for that lube later.

Elton's partially sitting up in bed, gazing at you. "Well, you came prepared." 

You blush a bit. "Well, yeah. Could you take your shirt off, baby?"

Your guy hesitates for a second, and then covers it with some raised eyebrows and lifted arms. "What if you take it off instead?"

Your brain shorts out for a second, before you climb onto the bed and do just that. You try to make it sexy, but you're not sure how effective that is with a T-Shirt that has to go over his head. You're sitting straddling his legs, and you pull him in for a kiss and run your hands over his body before having him lie belly-down on the bed.

Your hands are a little shaky as you reach for the bottle of oil and start to rub it into his smooth back. You lean over and plant kisses on him, occasionally, as you work your hands into his tense muscles. You're still straddling him, and the heat and the pressure of his body right into you combined with the moans he's giving are starting to have some effects. But it's good. Elton's muscles are relaxing, and he's letting out all of these lovely little noises. The smell of lavender drifts up and envelopes and relaxes both of you. You are in fields of warmth and good, and you've got your guy right there, happy and moaning and soft. 

Once you think you've gotten out most of the knots, you move to just lying on him and pressing kisses on his neck and shoulder blades. He lifts his ass a little, to see how your hips buck into him of their own accord, your underwear getting a little wet spot. He laughs a bit and moans into the pillow. You start to reach down to touch his chest. 

Elton, unconsciously or not, flinches a bit and turns his body away from the touch to his chest. You stop immediately and climb off of him. "Hey, honey. Are you alright?"

Elton looks like he's trying to come up with a good excuse before he looks up at you again and sighs in defeat. "You know already, don't you?"

"I have some guesses. You don't like your chest?"

"It's not just that. I. I mean, look at my stomach. I'm. I'm fat and it's just. I eat how I do, and it makes me look how I do, and it's disgusting. You deserve more than that. It doesn't help that I'm nearly bald. It's just ugly."

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second. Is he being serious? You know by his tone that he is, and yet, you still are having trouble believing he could think that, let alone say that out loud. He must have been under a lot of stress, to be able to say the words to you.

You open your eyes again and see his face, sitting up across from you with the blanket pulled a little over himself. He's not meeting your eyes, and a distressed frown has twisted up his lovely little lips. He looks ashamed. Unacceptable. 

"Darling. Honey. I love you so, so much Elton. You have no idea, no idea how beautiful you are, baby. Every part of you. You're perfect, honey. Please. Can I try and show you?"

Elton nods. 

You get back on him, this time pushing his back down to the bed, gently, and spending some time on his lips. Elton moans into your mouth. You're pressing up against each other so wonderfully. 

You plant a few kisses on his head before moving down to his neck, then his collar bone, kissing and sucking and worshiping as you go. Elton is squirming under you a bit from the sensitivity, but you look up, and his face shows only bliss. You move down, even more, his beautiful chest right up against your face. You kiss your way over to a nipple and worship it. You kiss it and suck on it, and you lave your tongue over it. Elton arches into you.

"You're so beautiful, honey." Nuzzle into him. "I love your handsome chest." Kiss. "I love your nipples." Move on to the other side. "Your body's so sexy." You suck on and lick the underside of a soft pectoral. His chest hair, just. Wow. You moan into his chest a bit.

Eventually, you start to move down again. His sweet little stomach. You kiss all of it. "Jesus. Baby. You're. You're so sexy. You're just perfect. I love having-" You kiss some more. "-my mouth on you like this." Gentle, breathy kisses that make him squirm. "Perfect." You follow the lovely trail of hair down to his waist.

You're reaching his cute little shorts now, and ask, "Can I get my mouth on the rest of you?"

"Yes. Yes, ohh, yes." You work his zipper down and pull off the shorts. To your delight, he'd been wearing no underwear, and he springs up nearly immediately. You kiss down his lower belly to his inner thighs, worshipping. Taking your time. 

Elton is panting and moaning now, bucking into the air and groaning. "Stay there, gorgeous." You get up and grab the lube, quickly, and set it on the now wrinkled sheets, before getting back to Elton. You kiss up closer and closer to him. One side of your face is basically in his balls at this point, but it's so, so good. You put your mouth on the hardness of him, and his hips thrust into your mouth with a moan.

You pop off of him and work at him with your hand as you bring your face lower. More kisses on his balls and the insides of his thighs, before putting your mouth on his little hole. You've done this on him once or twice before, but it doesn't happen often since Elton can never manage to specifically ask for it unless you bring it up. You lick all around him and ask, "Is this okay?"

Elton responds by trying to push himself back towards you and groaning. He barely manages to form a coherent "yes," but once he does you're right back there. You push your tongue into him and feel him writhe as you move it around in him, still playing with his dick and balls with the other hand. "Do you want more, baby?" Elton moans his assent and spreads his legs out wider for you. 

You smile and grab the lube, coating a finger with it and gently pushing it into him. The noises flow over you like honey as you take his length into your mouth again. You add another finger, and you curl them and twist inside of him. You lick and suck around his head, humming gently.

The sound of him moaning. It's mellifluous, a melody, smooth and warm. The world thinks they love his music, but this. Nothing compares to how you can make him sing with your hands and your mouth; it's a song, and you so love the dance, in and out in harmony.

He falls apart in your mouth with a crescendo. You drink him up, the noise and the flavor. It doesn't take long for you to follow, just getting yourself off with your hand as you keep moving the other one in him through his climax. Elton lies collapsed on the bed, and you pull your fingers out of him to cuddle up alongside him.

Soft skin, and a chest that's still rising and falling so quickly. You kiss on him, just a little more, so he won't forget. His soft chest and belly, in all their perfection. Then, you push your head back into his neck. Breath.

Elton leans down to kiss you, and, startled, you meet his lips. You didn't really think he would want to do right now, with you having recently given him a rim and blowjob. It was wonderful and beautiful, but that doesn't change the fact that you taste right now.

You pull away to start to apologize, but Elton, apparently, doesn't care. He pulls you back in and keeps kissing you, sweet and gentle as you did to him. After a minute, you kiss him back.

You both sink back into the bed again. "You're perfect. All of you."

Elton gives a floundering little laugh. "You, uh. You mentioned."

"And you better not forget it, honey."

"Thank you," Elton says, awkwardly, but so endearingly sincerely. 

'You're welcome' doesn't seem right for the occasion, so you just settle on, "I love you," and curl up around him, arms slung over him. You both fall asleep, his head over your heartbeat and your face in his hair, drifting into honey-and-lavender dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you made it! I hope you enjoyed giving a little joy to our boy. 
> 
> Special thanks to:
> 
> Whichever photographer took the picture of skimpy Elton that inspired me to write this  
> Thesaurus.com  
> Grammarly  
> https://www.menshealth.com/sex-women/a27017053/history-of-lube-sex/  
> https://www.dameproducts.com/blogs/journal/the-history-of-personal-lubricant  
> Google Images, for telling me what a 70s hotel looked like before I promptly ignored it  
> My friend Ilse (@ilse_dugan on Instagram) for all of her support and encouragement  
> Various friends that assured me that it's fine to write an RPF while I panicked about morals  
> My alarm clock, for waking me up after I finished the first 1k at 2 AM  
> And of course, all of you, for reading!
> 
> Special Condemnations:
> 
> The English language, for not having enough words for "to moan" with a positive connotation, and causing me to toss in some poetry in my frustration.  
> Also, my friend Jack, who told me RPFs are creepy. Love you though.
> 
> Please give feedback and suggestions in the comments!


End file.
